Steam Powered Static
by ctrl-issue
Summary: An origin story told in an AU Steam Punk setting. Who is behind the mysterious gas that has transformed Dakota's teenagers? And are there any heroes left to help defend against super-powered predators?
1. Chapter 1

_Title__: Steam Powered Static  
Rating__: T for Teen  
Author__: Ctrl_Issue  
Author's Note__: I wanted to do a steam punk version of Static Shock, so here it is. I'm doing this strictly due to my own whimsy, so it might not be as tight as some of my other works. Not sure if there are gong to be any pairings just yet, I've got a pretty gen plotline right now, though that is subject to change, but I still hope it entertains you. Unbeta'd.  
Chapter Word Count (including header)__: 5000_

Steam Powered Static

Chapter 01

"Why do I have to do this, again?" Virgil asked as he fussed with his cravat, tying a stylish bow that would fit just within the collar of his vest.

"We're there to show our support for Daddy," Sharon said as she watched him, making sure he looked as proper as she could make him. Since their mother had been murdered, she had taken on the role of Alpha Female of the house very seriously. Much too seriously for Virgil's state of mind.

At the same time, Sharon had not married yet, and was still young. For tonight's party, she wore a beautifully intricate cream dress that hung to just below her ankles, though her shoulders and neck were left bare. The hand stitched gold brocade on her corset remained a great source of pride for her as it followed a leaf and vine type pattern. Her hair remained up, though tonight it sparkled with pins and jewels.

"And, again, I ask, why do -I- have to do this?" Virgil muttered as he looked around for his pocket watch.

"Because it'll be good practice for when you become a real man and have to run a business," Sharon retorted.

Virgil snorted at that.

"What else would you do with yourself?" Sharon asked. "Become a midshipman?"

"Maybe just be a scholar?" Virgil asked in return.

"You can't be a student forever," Sharon said as she shook her head. She stalked toward him with a rustle of petticoats and skirts and far too much fabric, before reaching over and straightening both the vest and the cravat before fiddling with his cummerbund. Unlike her colors of gold and cream, he wore a darker suit with a cream shirt and cravat, accentuated with a purple cummerbund and neck pin. "You're too impatient for it, and you'll get tired of people telling you what's what and what to do. You're going to want to get out there and DO things with your life. Just wait and see."

"As you say," Virgil sighed. He turned his head to look away from her and eyed the stack of books on his desk. They were all decidedly science based, but only the top one was science fact. He ran a hand through his dreads before tying them back with a loose band so that the thick locks sat at the back of his neck.

"Come on, it might be fun," Sharon said with obviously forced cheerfulness. "I bet Miss Frieda will be there."

Virgil pursed his lips as he narrowed his eyes at his sister. "You do realize that she's just a friend, right?"

"A very good FEMALE friend who is very smart, and pretty, and has a good family. Yes?"

Virgil sighed in exasperation. "I cannot believe you're trying to play matchmaker with me when YOU don't even have a suitor."

"Yes, well, maybe I'll find someone suitable tonight at the party."

"And maybe pigs will fly," Virgil muttered to himself as he grabbed his hat. The two of them headed downstairs where their father was already waiting for them.

"I see you two are finally ready," Mr. Hawkins said as he watched them come down the staircase.

"Sorry about the delay, Daddy," Sharon smiled.

"Not to worry, sweetheart," Mr. Hawkins reassured her as he reached for her hands. He kissed her on the cheeks. "You are looking especially lovely tonight."

"Thank you," she said, her smile brightening considerably.

Turning, the patron of the family opened the door and ushered his two children out.

Recent rain had saturated most of the cobblestones of the street, and there were little streams of water that ran and pooled between the well-worn rocks. The early evening breeze drifted around them, whispering of the coming fall. Their booted and heeled shoes made soft click-clack noises as they walked down the pavement towards the downtown. They were scheduled to meet up with some friends before renting a carriage to head to their destination.

"It's going to be a lovely evening," Sharon commented as she walked between her two male companions.

"Hopefully, it will prove an interesting one as well." Virgil commented as he looked at others who seemed to be dressed up and heading in the same direction as them.

"With all the construction and digging up of streets that Mr. Alva has done recently, I hope whatever he has planned succeeds. It would be a shame if it were to somehow fail after all the time and effort he has put into this… surprise." Mr. Hawkins said.

"Do you have any idea what his plans are?" Sharon asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. "I've asked just about everyone I know, and no one knows. Or, if they do know, they're keeping it a better secret than is normal."

"I have my theories," Mr. Hawkins told her, a small, sly smile appearing below his mustache. "But we will be finding out soon enough, so why spoil the surprise with unfounded conjecture?"

"If it's coming from you, Daddy, it isn't going to be unfounded." Sharon retorted mildly.

Soon enough, they met up with Dr. Todd and his wife, who were old family friends.

"My, my, my, Mrs. Todd, you are looking radiant tonight," Mr. Hawkins said as he took her aged, gloved hand in his and kissed her on each cheek.

"And you are a poor flatterer," she chuckled.

"Now, Martha, he's only telling the truth," her husband smiled at her. He then turned his eyes to the two Hawkins children, for to him they would always be children no matter their age. "Miss Sharon, you do have a club or some form of weapon tonight, don't you?"

"Pardon?"

"You're going to need it to beat back the boys with something." He said, a smirk causing his lips to twitch. "If they get a hold of your hands… no telling if they'll ever let go!"

"They'll only need to hear her talk to know to back off," Virgil replied wryly, neatly ducking his head to miss her swat at him.

The adults laughed at their antics, but soon enough were hailing down a carriage to take them to the heart of Dakota and the awaiting festivities. Virgil opted to sit up front with the driver, which not only gave him the opportunity to get away from his sister so that she couldn't embarrass him in front of the other adults anymore, but also allowed everyone in the carriage to have enough room to be comfortable. As the horse pulled the carriage along, Virgil took the opportunity to look out over the city.

"You know, used to be, this place was flooded with businesses and people. Little shops here and there, and people coming in from the countryside all the time to sell off their wares," the driver said, striking up a conversation with him. He was an older man with ruddy colored skin and pale silver hair. He wore the same attire that every carriage driver seemed to wear, which consisted of a dark blue jacket and top hat, and dark blue pants. The boots were highly polished, though, and this driver seemed a bit more put together than some that Virgil had ridden with. "Sad that the flood's receded and everyone's moving on."

"Agreed," Virgil nodded. They passed empty building after empty building; some places where boutiques used to be and others where people used to live. Some still had signs up, though the businesses had long since left the area. Sadly, it seemed the only establishments that were doing well were the bars and the churches, and there was no telling if it was because the two recycled the other's patrons or if they had separate clientele. "I heard that it was going to be the next New York or Detroit as a model of industry right before the riots."

"It had the potential," the driver nodded. "Pity that the riots happened when they did."

"Pity that they happened at all," Virgil said. Breaking all the rules of propriety, rules he hadn't enjoyed since his mother left them, the young man admitted, "I lost my mom on the second day."

"Ahh, I'm sorry," the driver said, a light tip of his hat. "I lost my two brothers and my son. Not on the same day, but I'm not sure that would have made much of a difference as it just drug out the pain all the longer."

"I'm sorry," Virgil whispered, his throat tight with the pain of loss.

"My Virginia, though, she blossomed during it," the driver informed him with a sad shake of his head. "The rest of us, we were falling apart, just like the city, but her? She was a right spitfire, taking charge, making sure things got done and… everything."

"Yeah?" Virgil asked, only slightly curious.

"Indeed. Adversity can breed the kind of strength that most of us can only dream of. Challenge and pain gives us heroes."

"Heroes, huh?" Virgil smiled, bright white against his dark skin. "Your Virginia… what is she doing now?"

"Oh, she is now in charge of disaster readiness here in Dakota. Smart girl, her, making a career out of that horrible moment in time. She went to school, you know. School, then more school, then she got a place in the police department. Now she's in charge of something else. Beautiful girl. She's also got me four beautiful grandkids."

Virgil smiled at what was obviously a very proud Papa turned Grandpapa. "Seems to be awful busy."

"She is, but that's what family is for." The driver said with a shrug. "We take care of each other when things get a bit too much."

"By the way, my name is Virgil Hawkins." Virgil told him as he held out his hand.

"The name is Thomas LaMarr," the driver said with a smile as he shook the youth's hand.

The two continued to chat as they made their way towards the center of Dakota.

"So, I take it you and yours are headed to the big hullabalue down by the Clock Tower?"

"Yeah," Virgil sighed.

"And you don't want to go?"

"Well, it's just… I could think of a dozen other things I would rather be doing than going there and listening to a bunch of boring speeches."

"I hear there's going to be something really wonderful going to be revealed tonight from Mr. Alva. Something to bring in business and bring some prosperity back to this place."

"Yeah, I've heard that, too," Virgil nodded. "But talk is talk, and it's a story I've heard before about other supposedly great men."

Eventually, they arrived, and disembarked from the carriage. Mr. Hawkins paid for the ride while everyone else adjusted his or her clothing. Virgil waved to Mr. LaMarr as the driver clicked his tongue to get his horse back onto the street to pick up another faire.

The park in front of the clock tower was roped off with sentries dotted every so often to provide security for the well-to-do that weren't used to coming to this part of the city. Inside the sectioned off area, there were decorations, tables, and people everywhere. Sharon and Virgil shared a look at the soft sound of a live band floating through the air, the trumpeter playing a lively tune meant for dancing. With unspoken coordination, the five of them produced their invitations for the guard post closest to them. With a brief nod of his head, the security guards checked their names against a list and then admitted them into the cordoned off area.

They stayed along the pavement path that meandered the park, mindful that the rain had also gotten the grass wet, and therefore had a higher likelihood of staining the ladies' dresses. Once inside, they moved towards the stage where the band continued to play, the music getting louder and more accompanied as they approached. Virgil looked around, watching more of the people gathered around than where they were going. Everyone seemed to be dressed up for this occasion, with finery on easy display, and there was the over riding sense of security with as many sentries and officers around to make sure that the finery stayed with its proper owners.

"Appetizers?" A familiar voice asked.

Virgil spun around quickly, a wide smile on his face. "Richie!"

"Yo, V!" the blond replied with an equally wide smile. He held a silver platter in his hand, and was wearing what looked to be a very nice, and very borrowed, suit. His blond hair was slicked back, as if that would be enough to give him a more grown up image. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Richie," Sharon snickered as she took one of the napkins and bite-sized sandwiches, not bothering to use a more formal name for someone she considered a younger brother. "I didn't know you were working as a server."

"Eh, I am for tonight," the young man said with a blush.

Virgil had known Richie for most of his life, as Richie's mother used to be their housekeeper until her husband demanded that she stay at home and keep to their own house. She often brought her son with her, as there was no one else to watch him, and she didn't want to leave him alone. As such, Virgil's mom used to tutor both of the two young men before Virgil was sent off to a proper school and Richie… Richie was left to fend for himself until he was old enough to work at a proper job. Virgil well remembered Richie sneaking over to have his mom teach him more things, and to have a look at Virgil's homework as well.

Dr. Todd and his wife declined the offering even as someone in the distance caught there attention. With a small bow of their heads, they headed over towards their other friends, leaving the Hawkins family to talk with their waiter.

Virgil snagged one of the sandwiches for himself as Richie looked around.

"So, Richie, how are you?" Mr. Hawkins asked.

"I'm doing okay, Mr. H." Richie answered, a wry grin spread across his features. "Been working at a printing press for the past few months, and delivering papers in the morning."

"You still keeping up with your readings?"

Richie looked over to Virgil and the two shared a secret smile. "Yes, sir. I'm reading as many books as I can get a hold of. My library card is practically worn out from it."

"That's good," though the older male suspected that not all of those books were all that educational. "Might I ask why you're a server tonight if you are working with the printing presses so often that you can't come and visit with us?"

"Oh, well…" Richie laughed nervously, "I, uhm, heard that something really interesting was going to be going on tonight, so I got in contact with someone who knows someone to get the server gig tonight, so that I could see it for myself."

"Always so curious, huh?" Sharon asked, a kind smile curving her features as she remembered some of the tutoring sessions.

"Well, what can I say? If I don't investigate, I'll never know the truth," Richie said, glancing over his shoulder again, making sure that no one was trying to get his attention. "Mom said that if I saw you guys tonight, I was supposed to pass along her greetings."

"Thank you, and you make sure to give her our love as well," Sharon said happily. "And how is she doing, anyway?"

"She's… been happier, but she's content since Dad is happy having her home."

"And you? How do you feel about her being home?"

"I think the same as I've ever thought, she was happier taking care of other people than she is taking care of our house, but…" Richie shrugged. "Not for me to decide her future. I can only try and work out mine."

"Well, if she ever wants to come back to work for us, she is more than welcome," Mr. Hawkins said quietly. Cautiously, he added, "And if she needed a place to stay, I'm sure we could arrange that as well."

Richie flushed crimson and gave a deeper bow than was normal between him and the family. "Thank you, sir. I'll… I'll be sure to tell her."

"You do that," Mr. Hawkins said. A motion from a near-by crowd caught his attention, and he smiled at the three younger people before tipping his hat at them. "Now, if you don't mind, I have some schmoozing to do."

"So, who's the band?" Sharon asked as she eyed the entertainers.

There were five musicians wearing what could only be described as uniforms on the stage, each with chairs, though the lead trumpet player preferred to stand up for his solos. There was a podium off to the side ready to be moved to the front and center position once whomever was in charged decided it was time. There were also a string of unlit lanterns dangling over the stage, back towards the new, unlit lampposts, and over to what could only be considered the dance floor.

"Oh, that's the Rubber Band," Richie told her, unsure why she suddenly had an interest in jazz when she'd always proclaimed more interest in the classics.

"I think Sharon's more interested in a specific player on stage," Virgil snickered.

"Which one?" Richie asked, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe I can introduce you to 'im."

"Thank you, but I think I'd prefer a more reputable matchmaker," Sharon said with a huff before spotting a group of other young debutantes.

"I saw Miss Freida here, already, as well as a few other people you attend school with," Richie said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh, most of them were over by the fountain."

"I guess I should head over there, then," Virgil said reluctantly, obviously in no mood to do any such thing.

"It might be for the best."

"You still up to meeting tomorrow?"

"New shipment of dime novels arrives," the blond said with a happy nod. "I'll be there, no worries."

"Great!" Virgil laughed. "I'll see you after I get out of class, then."

"That's about the time I get my afternoon break," Richie nodded, more aware of Virgil's schedule than either of them cared to mention. "Meet over by the usual store?"

"You got it."

Before he could respond, someone whistled and called for Richie's attention. "And duty calls."

"Talk with you later, Richie," Virgil said with a tip of his hat. He watched the blond walk away before he, too, turned away and started towards the fountain, which was close to the stage and still on the paved way, but out of the way.

As he approached, he gave a soft groan to himself, as Richie had neglected to mention that a number of his fellow students were people he would rather have avoided. Fortunately, the first person to pay any attention to him was his long time friend Freida.

He smiled as he walked over to her, eyeing her beautifully done green and white dress. He watched as she bowed out of her current clutch of hanger-ons and came to meet him. "You are looking very lovely tonight, Miss Freida."

"And you are looking positively dapper, Mr. Virgil," she replied in kind, a smile already in place but turning genuine with his compliment. "Did you just arrive?"

"Indeed," he nodded. "And you?"

"My family and I arrived a little while ago," she said with a delicate shrug just before she took his arm. "I had hoped to get here in time to get a sneak peek at whatever Mr. Alva is going to show us tonight, but if it's something tangible, it must be small."

"Oh?"

"There isn't anything out of the ordinary going on around right now." She said with a sigh.

Virgil chuckled. "Always the inquisitive investigator, huh? Still bound and determined to become the next Lois Lane, huh?"

"All it takes is one good scoop, and I'll have my future set," she nodded.

"Or, you could go to a really good school…"

"Where's the fun in that?" She asked, her smile dazzling at the idea of being out in the field.

Virgil shook his head. "You know… it's funny, everyone's different thoughts about school and work."

"Oh?"

"For instance, I want to stay in school for a while longer, become a scientist making dreams and fantasies come true. Richie? My sister thinks I should go ahead and get a job and become a grown man and find a wife, but she doesn't want that life for herself. Richie is forced to work all the time, but he likes reading as much as I do, he just can't do it. And then you… you want to get out of school as soon as possible so you can get on with your life."

"Different people have different goals in life," Frieda said with a deceptively delicate shrug. "As my cousin says, different strokes for different folks."

"Miss Frieda," another voice rasped in greeting. "Hawkins."

"Francis," Virgil replied levelly as he slowly turned around to regard the red-haired male who was standing far too close to them.

"Mr. Francis," Frieda said, clutching Virgil's arm tighter in hers. "How are you this fine evening?"

"As fine as ever," Francis replied, "But still, just a pale shade compared to how fine you are tonight."

"Thank you for the compliment," she replied sweetly, "but finery is in perception, and it seems that you are just as fine as everyone here."

"Would that that were so," he acknowledge before a coughing fit overtook him. He pulled out a familiar handkerchief to cover his mouth with until the fit slowed and then ended. Virgil knew that Frieda was well aware of the pink spots of blood decorating the scrap of cloth, but none of them said a word about it. Francis's illness was a fact that they were all well aware of, and if there was one thing that most of the student body knew, it was that Francis's had as short a temper as he did a lease on life. "Pardon me."

"Bless you," Frieda murmured.

Francis took a deep breath as he put his handkerchief away. "Anyway, Miss Frieda, I was wondering if you were free tomorrow afternoon for… a walk."

"Oh, uhm," Frieda hesitated, her hand flying to her throat, which displayed the blush that went from the top of her head down. "I'm… I'm sorry. I already had plans to walk with Mr. Virgil tomorrow."

Virgil blinked, but tried not to show his surprise. As far as he was aware, he and Frieda had no such plans. '_Oh, hell. Did we? How am I going to explain this to Richie?! Oh, wait, maybe this is a diversion so she won't have to bother going out with Francis tomorrow. That sounds more like it. Pity._'

"I'm sure Hawkins wouldn't mind bowing out for one afternoon," Francis fairly growled, his green eyes narrowing at the darker-skinned youth.

"Actually, I was really looking forward to it."

"Perhaps some other afternoon, Mr. Francis," Freida said politely as she tugged on Virgil's arm, pulling him away.

Francis took a step forward, as if to try and stop them, but out of nowhere, Richie appeared, his silver platter of snacks directly in Francis's path. "Appetizer?"

Virgil grinned as he hurried Frieda away. The two of them walked around for a while, meeting with different groups of fellow students. He noticed that, while she seemed to enjoy everyone's company, she always kept her eyes out for certain people.

Soon the band caught their attention, signaling everyone to gather around the stage.

"Guess it's show time," Freida said as she led Virgil towards the rest of the gathering people.

They stood in the growing dusk as Mr. Alva himself appeared first on the stage, his son standing behind him trying to have a blank expression but mostly just appearing constipated.

"Hello Ladies and Gentlemen of Dakota, I'm sure you are all wondering why I brought you out here on this fine early autumn night."

A rippled of amused murmurs drifted through the crowd and Alva smiled at them in return.

"I'm about to show you, and I hope you can bare with me and my, hopefully, brief speech." Alva began. "As most of you are aware, our city is dying, and it has been my mission for these past few years to find a way to bring life and vitality back here. Back to where we can use it to build our city back up, again, and to grow even greater. With that in mind…"

The silver-haired businessman turned to look over to the side of the stage. With a nod of his head, he sent one of his assistance scurrying off. There was another wave of sound from the audience as the night began to fully overtake the crowd, and yet none of the lampposts had been lit yet. A moment later, and the reason for the neglected lights became evident.

Lights.

Every hanging lantern, every lamppost, and even small little starlets along the ropes and decorating the trees came to life in one quick flick.

Where the previous two waves of sound from the audience were light laughter and murmurs of concern, the overwhelming reaction to the display around them came out as a crash of surprise, delight, and inspiration.

"Oh," Frieda gasped, releasing Virgil's arm so she could spin around under one of the many crossing intersections of lights and lanterns. "It's so pretty!"

"It's… amazing," Virgil nodded, remembering some of the same articles in the newspapers, as well as in the dime-books he and Richie had shared.

"I heard about these, or read about them, really. They're electric lights," Richie said from near-by as he looked up at the bright decorations. "They're all the rage in New York and a few European cities."

"Oh, yeah!" Virgil grinned in excitement.

"Beautiful, aren't they," Alva said as he looked from the sky where the lights are displaying more style and grace than the now invisible stars above them. "Electric lights."

"Ha! I knew it!" Richie muttered triumphantly.

"You'll be reading about them in the upcoming paper, so I won't bother with the complicated science behind it. However, I will say that, unlike the electric generators of New York and other cities, Dakota will be unique in how we generate power. There will be no coal burning, no soot to blanket our fair city in another level of grit and grime and garbage. My scientists have developed an entirely new way to power our lights involving chemical reactions that occur naturally. These lights you see in this once abandoned park are just the first in a series that my company will be donating to the city, along with several dozens of others."

A flutter of excitement swept through the crowd at that thought, and for a brief moment, Virgil thought about what that would be like, what it would look like to have more of these differing shaped and sized lights decorating the streets around his home.

"More than that, though," Alva said, overriding the low roar from the crowd. "More than that, this will allow other industries to come into Dakota, drawn to our innovation and low costs. Tonight, I bring you lights, but tomorrow… the future is open for us now, Dakota. And it promises a great deal."

Alva bowed away from the podium, allowing others to talk, but Virgil didn't pay them any attention, too focused on the now glittering world around him. "It's… it's like straight out of a science fiction story."

"Hmmm…" Frieda murmured, the wonder of the moment suddenly replaced by something far more… inquisitive. "You think so?"

"Yeah. I mean… to not use coal to power the upcoming electric grid? That just sounds too far-fetched." Virgil said. "Every story I've ever read has always said that coal and steam were the ways to do it. It's only in science fiction that people are able to harness lightning."

"But Mr. Alva said that he isn't using lightning or coal," Frieda replied.

"I know. Which makes this all the more," Virgil said, struggling for a word to adequately describe what he was feeling. "Fantastic."

"Miss Frieda…" Richie said, "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I just might have found that really big, dream scoop I've always wanted."

Virgil immediately stopped looking at the lights so that he could instead concentrate on his two friends. "Uhm… Why doesn't that sound good to me?"

"Because you're still sane?" Richie asked, still eyeing Frieda.

"Because you have no sense of adventure." Frieda corrected them. With a nod of her head and a slight curtsy to both of them, she moved off to find her parents, leaving the two young men alone once again.

"And there she goes," Richie said.

"Yeah," Virgil sighed. He caught his blond friend frowning at him and gave a wry smile in retort. "I just can't help but feeling… this is all going to lead to some massive amounts of trouble."

"Good things always do." Richie replied before heading back to work.

Virgil gave a helpless, unnoticed shrug in response before going off to find his own family so that they could take their seats and eat under the newly lit streetlights.


	2. Chapter 2

_Title__: Steam Powered Static  
Rating__: T for Teen  
Author__: Ctrl_Issue  
Author's Note__: I wanted to do a steam punk version of Static Shock, so here it is. I'm doing this strictly due to my own whimsy, so it might not be as tight as some of my other works. Not sure if there are gong to be any pairings just yet, I've got a pretty gen plotline right now, though that is subject to change, but I still hope it entertains you. Unbeta'd.  
Chapter Word Count (including header)__: 4000_

**Steam Powered Static**

_Chapter 02_

The next day dawn crisp and cool, but afternoon clouds rolled in promising more rain and cooler temperatures. As the last bell for the day echoed through the schoolyard, Virgil picked up his books, put in them his bag, and headed towards his meeting place with Richie with his usual excitement.

"Mr. Virgil?" Frieda said, running to catch up with him.

Her school dress, standard for all females attending Dakota Academy, had a tighter upper bodice, buttoned up all the way to the throat, and a skirt that swayed at ankle length. Virgil himself wore the male uniform of dark gray pants and jacket with a perfectly formed tie around his throat.

"Ms. Frieda," Virgil greeted her, properly taking her schoolbooks. "How are you today?"

"I'm good," she replied as she glanced over her shoulder.

Glancing back himself, Virgil saw Francis watching them, his eyes narrowed.

"Are you ready for our walk?" she asked as he opened the door for her.

"Indeed," Virgil nodded, giving her his arm.

She smiled as she took it, and the two of them began descending the steps towards the street. Being very careful, she leaned over to him and whispered, "I'm beginning to question Mr. Francis's intelligence. He just isn't catching the hint."

"Maybe you should introduce him to… someone else?" Virgil whispered back.

"That would mean I'd have to talk with him, unprotected." She muttered as she straightend her posture. "I've been trying to avoid that, if you hadn't noticed."

"Oh, I've noticed," the dark-skinned male replied. "But, I'd think with such a bright mind as yours, you'd be just as interested investigating other people's opinions and infatuations with Francis as you would what Mr. Alva is up to. Some stories start out small, but build up. Or so I've heard."

"Leave no stone unturned," Frieda nodded. "Yes, but… There's just something disturbing about the way he fixates."

"It has led him to do some great things," Virgil informed her. "I doubt he would have survived this long if he didn't fixate on something other than his health."

Frieda sighed in acknowledgement, but did not say anything to contradict him.

"On the other hand, I imagine that his supposed links to the darker side of Dakota doesn't help any potential attraction," Virgil snickered. "You may be interested in news, but even you stay clear of bad news like him."

"Oh, I don't know. Bad news can be good news, but he… I don't need that kind of big news in my personal life," she said with a shrug. "And speaking of news, where exactly are we heading?"

"It's Wednesday," Virgil said, as if that explained everything.

And, in a way, it did.

"Ahh, new dime novels are out," Frieda nodded with a knowing smirk. "I take it we're going to meet up with Richie?"

"You know it," Virgil laughed softly. "We're both dying to find out what happened to our favorite heroes."

"It's a good thing that you two are so willing to share," Frieda said with an affectionate roll of her eyes. "I can only imagine how much you two would spend if you each had to buy your own books."

"We'd have our own library of science-fiction pulp novels," Virgil agreed. "But it's fun, and it doesn't hurt anyone."

"Which is more than I can say for some hobbies," Richie said as caught up with them. "Ms. Frieda. Virgil."

"Mr. Richie," Frieda greeted with a smile, holding out her other arm.

With a slight blush, Richie smiled while he declined the opportunity. "I'm sorry, but I'm filthy, and I wouldn't want to ruin your dress with any still drying ink."

"I think I can face off against a little bit of ink," Frieda said archly.

Virgil looked over to see his friend wearing a cap, the pale sleeves of his shirt tied off around his biceps and elbows to keep them from catching on the printing press machinery, and a thick leather apron.

"Well, then, would you believe that I prefer my skin in tact, and with as wanted as you are by people who can make my life miserable, I'd prefer not to be seen escorting you around the city in a manner deemed familiar and improper?" Richie rambled, his blush intensifying as he began to struggle out of his apron. Once out, he rolled it up and tied it so that he could move more freely with his friends.

"Oh, all right," she laughed. "That I believe."

"So, any ideas where to start in your investigation to what Mr. Alva is really up to?" Richie asked, his blush slowly receding.

"Well, first thing first," Frieda nodded. "I'm hoping to get a tour of the power plant as a special project for the school newspaper. I think that would help point me in other directions on where to look."

"And how are you going to go about getting that tour?" Virgil asked as they turned the corner. Only one block more to go before they arrived at the book store.

"I am sending them a letter on the school letterhead, and insisting on freedom of the press to get a pass in," she nodded firmly.

"Well, I wish you the best of luck," Richie nodded, eyeing the outside racks of newspapers and magazines. "But I think what you're doing is crazy."

"I think it's dangerous." Virgil agreed.

"And I think it'll be brilliant." Frieda said. She released Virgil's arm and silently asked for her books.

With a grin, Virgil handed them over to her. "You better be careful."

She chuckled as she headed away from them and towards the post office.

"Crazy," Richie said with a shake of his head.

"You said it," Virgil agreed.

The two shared a conspirator-smile before heading into the store.

Thirty minutes, and a forty cents later, the two emerged from the store, each holding two books.

"So, which one you going to read first, V?" Richie asked as he looked between the two books he carried. For him, each book was a treasure.

Right up until a lit match landed on the new, shiny cover.

"Hey!" Richie shouted, dropping the book. He stomped on it a few times, trying to put out the fire.

"Damn," a familiar voice drawled. "I better work on my aim."

Virgil looked up from what Richie was doing to glare at Francis. The other young man was leaning against the corner of a building next to them with easy access to the alley between them. "That was completely uncalled for."

Francis covered his mouth with his handkerchief and coughed delicately into it. "Oh, please. It's a stupid book read by stupid people. I saved his intelligence, what little there is of it, by destroying that rag."

"Damn your eyes," Richie growled from his knees as he tried to repair the damage to the book. When he looked up, tears of rage shimmered in his eyes behind his glasses. "You need to back off."

Francis shook his head and scoffed. Crossing his arms across his chest, he sighed. "Seems I'm a bit late to save your little catamite."

It was all Virgil could do to hold Richie back. "What do you want, Francis?"

"I want Miss Frieda," the redhead replied, as if it were the most natural and possible thing in the world, and so completely obvious it didn't need stating except to the mentally deficient. "And you're getting in my way."

"I do not control Miss Frieda," Virgil said, still standing in front of Richie. However, he was no longer holding the blond back. If anything, the blond was now watching out to see if he would have to restrain Virgil. "You would be wise to not try to either."

"Or what? You'll inflict some physical violence on my persons?" Francis smirked. "Trust me, neither of you have the… skills."

"Just because you're ill doesn't mean I won't beat you down," Virgil warned.

Francis chuckled darkly at the threat even as two others came out of the shadows of the alley. "Oh, I'd love to see you try."

"Yo, Francis, I bet Virgil could take you."

"Wade?!" Virgil asked, shocked. He and Richie both turned to look at the fast approaching young man.

Wade was dressed in his dockworker's clothes, though Virgil knew that he hadn't gone on shift yet. The older man muscled his way forward like a bulldog, causing the two people that Francis had brought with him to back down. Two others followed Wade, and Virgil had a sudden errant thought in his head, wondering if it was normal for people to run around in packs and small mobs when they spent more of their lives in the darkness than in polite society.

Virgil felt both relief as well as disappointment upon seeing the older male. He had been rescued from similar situations in the past by Wade, or at least someone from his 'crew', and while there had never been a call for him to return the favors bestowed upon him, he knew that it was just a matter of time.

"Bet Virgil could wipe the floor with you," Wade continued.

"Heh," Francis chuckled softly. "Then why don't we see about that? Bring him to the duel tonight, let him be your stand-in."

"You going to be-"

"We'll see you there," Francis interjected with a smug smile before twisting down the alley, and running off with his two associates.

"Man, for someone with weak lungs, he sure can run," Virgil remarked as he peeked around the corner to see the trio leaving. He felt more than saw Richie get up and lean against him to see down the alley as well.

"Oh, he'll be hacking up half of it whenever he stops to catch his breath," Wade said with a disgusted shrug. He stood staring down the alley, his arms crossed across his chest. "That boy has been in and out of the hospital so many times, he should be a doctor by now. Doesn't help that all that down time just feeds his sadistic streak. Idle hands and devil's playground and all that other rot."

One of the two following Wade snickered at that.

"Uhm, Wade…" Virgil hesitated, not wanting to irritate his errant savior, but… "You know I'm not a fighter. More of a lover, yeah?"

"Oh, yeah, but don't worry. As my second, all you have to do is show up." Wade said with a shrug, still looking down the alley. "I know you, Hawkins. You're a good kid."

"…Thanks." Virgil muttered as he straightened up.

"But you got shit for a reputation. You're easy pickings, too much of a square, and Francis knows that. He's picking you off as the easiest entertainment for himself. And because it seems you caught the eye of someone he's interested in."

"Ouch," Richie muttered.

"What do you get out of this, Wade?" Virgil asked, not bothering with subtlety or propriety.

"Me?" Wade asked, finally turning to look at Virgil. He smiled widely and shook his head. "I'm just helping out your sister. She'd be very upset if something happened to you."

"My… sister?" Virgil squeaked. "You're interested in my sister?"

"What?!" Wade asked, shocked so much that he fell out of his wide stance, and dropped his arms to his side. "No, man, she's been helping me and my brothers. She's been helping some of us find different jobs and making connections, trying to help us get a better life."

Virgil and Richie shared a look before turning back to Wade.

"You know, and you may already know this," Wade remarked with a rueful smile. "If your sister and her debutante friends ever put their mind to it, they could take over this town and rule it like a new Cartel."

Virgil blinked as he thought about that, thought about his sister sitting behind a large, dark wood desk while smoking a pipe and issuing out death orders. Thought about some of her friends walking into the room, talking about shoes and dresses and charities and about who to kill next. He shivered at the thought. "Thankfully, that would never happen."

"I know, but it's still something to think about," Wade laughed as he shook his head. "Meet up at the docks tonight, Pier 23, at around midnight. Duel won't occur until one, but it's helpful to be there early to gauge the layout of the land."

"I'll be there," Virgil muttered, completely un-thrilled with the idea. "Weaponless, but there."

"Don't worry. I'll have something you can use."

"Oh, joy."

Wade chuckled as he patted Virgil on the shoulder, and then he headed off to work, his crewmembers following behind him as silent as shadows.

"Man…" Richie said slowly, watching Virgil rather than Wade. "This is not a good idea. This is seriously not a good idea."

"I know." Virgil sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"This is so seriously not a good idea, I'd rather you go with Miss Frieda to help her investigate Alva." Richie continued.

"I would almost prefer to be with Miss Frieda," Virgil agreed. He shook his head and stuffed his two books into his book bag. "But, if I don't show up, not only would I be giving Francis more material against me, but I would also be disappointing Wade."

"And Wade is one guy you don't want to disappoint," Richie agreed with a grimace.

"Exactly." Virgil shook his head.

The two looked at their feet for a moment before turning towards Virgil's home.

"I guess it's going to be a late night for you, then," Richie said quietly.

"Yeah," Virgil agreed. "And school will start just as early tomorrow."

"There is that," the blond agreed.

Virgil gave a deep sigh. "I am so dead."

"Agreed."

The two young men soon parted ways, as Richie had to get back to work and Virgil had to go home.

Dinner that night was a casual affair, and Virgil allowed his sister to dominate the conversation. Not that he had much choice in the matter, really, but he liked to believe that if he had wanted the attention, he could have had it. After dinner, the three Hawkins retired to the parlor where Sharon began to work on her embroidery and Virgil worked on his homework.

The youngest member of the family prayed that there would be no tests the next day, as he couldn't remember anything he went over, his mind far too filled with dread at what he would be doing later that night.

He had never really thought about his home life before, but for the first time, he began to mull it over. Unlike some people, including his best friend Richie, his family was in the upper echelon of society. With his mother a Lady-Nurse and his father a well-known businessman, his family could afford to heat their four-bedroom house, indoor plumbing for the kitchen and wash-closet, as well as keep a healthy stock of candles and food. The parlor had a small cabinet of liquor that remained closed unless there happened to be a special occasion or a holiday, though the baby grand piano seemed to be touched every day.

Closing his book, Virgil turned in his seat to stare at one of the three photographs in the room. It was the only one of his mother, and it was so old that Virgil appeared as just a toddler in his mother's arms. Idly, he wondered if that would be the only photograph ever taken of him.

At some point during the evening, rain began to pour down the windows. It took a crash of thunder and lightning to make them all turn to see.

"It looks like there is going to be a storm tonight," Sharon said as she set aside her needlework. She moved over the largest window of the room and closed the curtain, trying to keep any chill that might try to enter out.

"Mr. Hawkins?" came a quiet, slightly accented voice.

"Yes, Mrs. Baldur?" Mr. Hawkins asked, standing up as the elderly woman came into the room.

"I have a pie setting in the kitchen, should you be interested in a late night snack," she said with a soft smile.

"Ah, thank you, ma'am," he said taking her hands in his. "But it is late. You should be getting home soon, yes?"

"Yes," she nodded happily. "My Tony, he should be here any moment."

"Is he picking you up in the back?"

"Yes, yes," she nodded. "I be back tomorrow, though. Bright and early."

"Of course, Mrs. Baldur." Mr. Hawkins smiled. Giving a sly look to Virgil, he added. "And I'm sure your pie will be just fine in the mean time."

"Hey!" Virgil shouted good-naturedly.

Mrs. Baldur just laughed and shook her head. "Food is only good if you eat it!"

Mr. Hawkins chuckled and kissed her on the cheek. "You take care tonight. Seems to be a storm is on its way in."

"Ah, not a bad one, though," she corrected. "My bones, they tell me this is nothing."

She left the three of them, and soon after Virgil excused himself for the night. He stopped by the wash-closet to clean up before slipping quietly upstairs and into his own room. As quietly as he could, he got out of his normal after school clothes and got into some of his more raggedy clothes. If he was going down to the docks later that night, he didn't want to ruin any of his good clothes, or at least ruin any clothes that he could get in trouble for. He also made sure that he was dressed warmly, though he knew his rain jacket remained down stairs close to the front door.

Virgil lay back in his bed, and listened as both his sister and then his father retired for the night. He remained in his bed until he heard the down stairs clock chime the eleventh hour. Then, moving with extra caution, he slipped out of bed and out of his room. He skipped over the stair that squeaked, his senses on over drive as he tried his best to remain silent. Using all the stealth he had, he grabbed his rain jacket and traveling hat. Then slipped to the kitchen so that he could sneak out the back door.

As he opened the door, Virgil glanced over to the table and noticed the pie that was still sitting there. With a mournful sigh, he teenager left the pie unmolested as he escaped into the night.

He made his way quickly down to the docks, running most of the way. Fortunately, the rain cleared up the closer he got to the docks, so there was at least one concern that e wouldn't have to worry about. As he neared, he found other teenagers, most not from his school though they were around his age, converging on the docks along with him. Easily slipping through the gate that someone else held open, a nameless teenage female with Latin eyes and golden hair, Virgil followed the flock of teens to the designated pier where they divided up along three groups: one group going towards Wade; the second group going to another, thinner black man; and the third group just finding places to watch the duel.

Virgil took a deep breath, more or less trying to catch his breath after running for so long, before he moved over to be at Wade's side.

"I see you made it," Wade grinned. "And only giving me a slight heart-attack. Could you have cut it any closer?"

"Sorry," Virgil said, his lungs still burning. "I had to run most of the way here, and it took me longer than I thought it would."

"Yeah, well…. I'm just glad you made it."

"So… what am I supposed to do now?" Virgil asked, noticing Francis standing behind the other black man, obviously the second half to this duel.

"Here's the deal," Wade said, beckoning to another person to come over. For a moment, the person looked familiar, and Virgil could only guess by the man's larger frame that he had seen him before somewhere. The stranger handed Wade an ornate wooden box before slipping away again.

Opening the box, Wade displayed two very ornately detailed wooden and brass pistols.

Virgil sucked in a breath before taking a partial step back. "Wade-"

"You are going to take the second one, load it, and have my back in case I fall and Ebon over there wants to take a second, unfair shot at me. Or in case Francis wants to take a shot." Wade explained, motioning with the box for Virgil to take one. "Francis is Ebon's second tonight."

"You want me… to carry a gun?" Virgil hissed before he looked everywhere but at Wade. Unfortunately, everywhere he looked, Virgil saw people looking at him. Watching him.

Waiting for him to back down and show the world what a coward he was.

They were standing in front of crates to the side, and sitting atop of metal canisters further along the pier. Some were even sitting in boats floating in the near-by waters.

Turning back to the larger male, Virgil stepped forward again and whispered. "You know my mother was killed by one of these things!"

"I know," Wade nodded. "But I also know that sometimes a lot of good can come from guns."

"Like what?"

"Police officers use them-"

"And so do smugglers."

"Virgil," Wade warned.

Virgil looked passed Wade, towards where Francis and Ebon stood watching them.

"Just because you hold the gun doesn't mean you have to use it." Wade murmured to him. "If that's what it takes, then that's what it takes. You can stay at my back, but I'll just pretend you aren't there."

The smirk on Francis's face grated, and Virgil knew the only way he was going to ever get that expression off the redhead's face was if he picked up the gun.

"Just make sure you don't shoot me by accident." Wade continued.

Virgil shot the man a venomous glare, but squared his shoulders and picked up the pistol. It rested heavy in his hand, but was somehow warm to the touch. Wade nodded his head, and then picked up his own pistol. He snapped the box shut before tossing it the gentleman who had given it to him. Then, Virgil watched as Wade loaded the weapon, following the directions as close as his cold, numb fingers allowed.

When they were finished, Wade nodded, and then motioned for Virgil to take a few steps back. Taking his cue, Virgil not only got a few steps behind Wade, but also managed to put a large crate between himself and Francis. When he noticed Wade's expression, he shrugged.

"What? You know he's gunning for me."

Wade chuckled softly. "As you say, kid."

"Are you ready?" Ebon asked, his voice surprisingly smooth, even in the chilled air.

"I am. And you, sir?" Wade asked. "Though I use the term loosely."

Ebon gave a devious smirk before bringing his pistol up. Wade did the same. Virgil looked out from behind his barrier to watch Francis, who seemed to be quite content just watching him, that smug smile firmly in place.

The world seemed to fall away as the two men cocked the pistols.

Shots fired.

And the world exploded.


	3. Chapter 3

_Title__: Steam Powered Static  
Rating__: T for Teen  
Author__: Ctrl_Issue  
Disclaimer:__ I don't own Static Shock, Batman, or anything else that might seem to be familiar.  
Author's Note__: I wanted to do a steam punk version of Static Shock, so here it is. I'm doing this strictly due to my own whimsy, so it might not be as tight as some of my other works. Not sure if there are gong to be any pairings just yet, I've got a pretty gen plotline right now, though that is subject to change, but I still hope it entertains you. Unbeta'd.  
Author's Note II__: I'm trying to find out which metals are magnetic and which are not, because not all metals are. For instance, gold is not magnetic. I mean, sure, even tap water has a small, base magnetic charge, but I'm thinking of making this as logical as possible, and therefore I'm keeping the bending of water out of this. FYI- water's charge comes from the fact that the oxygen molecule 'steals' the extra electron from the two hydrogen molecules more than it shares. The ONLY thing I learned in science class in high school. Well, that and pig fetuses are ugly.__  
Chapter Word Count (including header)__: 3234_

Steam Powered Static

Chapter 03

"Virgil!" Sharon called out from the other side of the door. "Virgil, it's morning, and time to get up!"

The young man in question groaned softly to himself as he tried to burrow deeper into his pillow and blanket.

"If you don't get up in the next half minute, I'm going to come in there and-"

"I'm up." Virgil yelled sleepily back. More softly, and he hoped pitched so that only he could hear, he muttered. "Such a harpy of a woman. No wonder she's not married off."

"I heard that mister!"

Virgil groaned again. He could already tell it was going to be a hellish day.

With a deep sigh, he forced himself into a sitting position. Running a hand through his dreads, he frowned as he looked down at himself. Virgil cursed softly, starring down at his bare torso. Concerned, he shoved off the covers, embarrassed to realize that he was completely nude.

"What the…" Virgil muttered before an even bigger concern hit him. "How the bloody hell did I get home?"

His frown seemingly plastered on, the young male clambered out of bed. He looked around the room, trying to find any clue to solve the little mystery. Unfortunately, the room seemed to be exactly as it was before he left the previous night.

In fact, about the only thing in the room that seemed to be even remotely out of place was an old, patched cap that Virgil knew belonged to Richie. However, he couldn't remember if it just suddenly showed up or if it had been there since Richie's last visit.

Shaking his confusion off as something that he could think about later, Virgil quickly dressed and went down stairs to take care of his morning needs. Once finished, he went to the kitchen, only to see that someone else had managed to take the first slice of pie.

"Hey! Who got to the pie before I did?" Virgil asked as a plate of eggs were put down in front of him.

"As if!" Sharon scoffed. "You can't play innocent with us, Virgil. We know you snuck down here to steal a piece."

"Little Knave of Hearts, he is." Mrs. Baldur chuckled as she dished more food onto Sharon's plate as well.

"I did no such thing!" Virgil argued as he dug into his breakfast. He was still excruciatingly tired, but he knew that school waited for no boy. Automatically, he thought of which classes he could sleep through, though the only ones that came to mind were the ones he already did.

As Virgil was finishing up his breakfast, his father came in through the kitchen door. "Looks like school and most non-essential social services are cancelled for today."

"What?" the others in the room chorused.

"Constable Jessup just came by to tell us that there was an explosion of some sort near the docks, and that it has caused some serious harm to the people exposed to the gas. They want everyone to stay inside until it has dissipated."

"So…." Virgil began, his mind befuddled with random stray thoughts that wove together in misshapen patterns. "This mean I can go back to sleep?"

"The constable thinks that it should be cleared up by about noon," Mr. Hawkins said dryly. "And since the school is closed for today, when we receive the all clear, you can either come with me and help out at the office, or you can go with Sharon and help her out at the women's center."

Virgil blinked between his father and then his sister. "Uhm…. I was actually hoping to go to the library today, Pops."

Mr. Hawkins and Sharon shared a soft chuckle.

As noon rolled around, the family gathered at the window to see what all was going on. There were still a few police walking around, silver and brass masks covering their faces while the armor of their uniforms protected them while simultaneously filtering out potential poisons.

"You know," Sharon murmured. "I never thought I would actually see anyone wearing Wayne Enterprises' protectorate gear."

"Because chemical spills are for larger cities," Mr. Hawkins agreed. "It's fortunate that Mr. Wayne is such a gracious business man."

"Oh?"

"When he lost the bid to buy up land here in Dakota for whatever project he had planned to Mr. Alva, he went ahead and donated a full compliment of suits, as well as making sure that the local hospital was in good repair as a show of good faith." Mr. Hawkins informed them.

"I didn't know that." Virgil frowned as he looked back at his father. "Do you think he thought Mr. Alva wasn't being on the up-and-up?"

"I think it was just a way of showing off," Sharon muttered. "To have that kind of pull and resources, he probably already had all of it in the works. The fact that he lost the bid for our city probably didn't even bother him that much. After all, Mr. Wayne has been known to do some very… eccentric things."

"Like what?"

"Like running away from home and joining the circus." Sharon shook her head. "I understand that he was an orphan, but he was a RICH orphan. He had options."

"There are always options," Mr. Hawkins agreed. "Just as we cannot go back to fix past mistakes, we also must work with the tools we have. And we must always, always remember-"

"We are the decisions we make." Sharon and Virgil finished with him, well aware of the concept.

It wasn't until much later that Virgil was able to get some free time where he could go meet up with any of his friends 'foolish' enough to be out on the street. The first person he ran into just happened to be Miss Frieda.

"Miss Frieda!" Virgil shouted.

"Mr. Virgil!" She replied in kind, a quirky smile tugging at her lips. "How are you this fair, school-free day?"

"I've been better, truth to tell," he shrugged as he stifled a yawn. "And you?"

"I beg your pardon?" she asked distractedly. "My apologies, I'm in the middle of running a quick errand. Did you have a late night?"

"Yes, unfortunately."

"You weren't down by the docks were you?"

Virgil blinked at her, his mind trying to come up with a proper answer. On the one hand, he wanted to tell her that he had been up late at night studying, as that was what a good man would have been doing. On the other hand, he knew he was a terrible liar.

Seeing his slow response, and thinking thoughts of her own, she smiled at him and patted his arm. "I heard that Francis challenged you, and that you were supposed to be, but if you weren't at the docks last night, I wouldn't think you a coward. In fact, I'd think you were a better man for it."

"Oh?" Virgil asked, his voice a bit strangled.

"Yes," Frieda said before she began to shake her head sadly. "I'm not sure if you've heard, seeing as how most of the city has been under lock down, but everyone that went to the docks last night…"

When Frieda failed to continue, Virgil thought of the worst thing imaginable and asked, "They were arrested?"

"If only." She replied in a hushed whisper. She looked around them, trying to see who might be watching them, before she leaned forward and whispered, "I heard that they've been… changed."

"Changed? How?"

"I'm not sure, but one of my Daddy's friends from the temple came by early, early and was talking about some of the people who were being found left on the docks." Frieda said, pulling out her fan. She flicked it open, and with deft movements of her wrist began go fan herself as if she were warm. Virgil could see the way her eyes were tearing up, though, and knew that the movements of the fan had more to do with drying her eyes than with cooling her down. "Oh, Virgil… if I thought I could stomach repeating what he described… I would tell you all about it. It's worse than some of what is in those science fiction books of yours, though. Monsters, really. Monsters. Monsters wearing human faces sometimes, but monsters none the less."

Virgil opened his mouth, trying to form some kind of response, but, really, what kind of response could he come up with to something like that. '_Monsters? What kind of monsters?_' "How did your father's friend get out from under the lock down?"

"I've no idea, I didn't talk with him directly, and just over heard the conversation."

"I see… but… monsters?"

"I know! It just sounds ludicrous, but that's what he said. I'm hoping to find out more later today, though." Frieda said as she shook her head sharply, her fan still frantically moving. She looked all around, trying to control her thoughts and emotions before settling on something that she had actual control over. "I need to go get these errands done, but… will you be at school tomorrow?"

"If it's open," Virgil replied weakly.

"Then I shall see you then, but I must be off," she said with another quick shake of her head. "If I don't get these letters mailed, then I will never be admitted for a tour of Alva's plant. Wish me luck!"

"Good luck, Miss Frieda."

"And good day, Mr. Virgil."

He watched her leave him, walking swiftly down the pavement towards the post office. Overhead, a police dirigible came into view, passing slowly over the street. Virgil felt his stomach jump to his throat as he watched it's slow progress. '_Do they know I was there? Are they looking for me?_' His heart began hammering in his chest, even though the blimp began to pass over him to be hidden behind the rise of buildings across the street.

When the floating patrol was gone, Virgil leaned against a nearby lamppost, his nerves completely shot. Taking a deep breath to release the stagnant air in his lungs, Virgil received another scare. The light bulb of the lamppost, one of the new electric creations recently installed, shorted out, the top part of the metal monstrosity sparking and sizzling. Virgil jumped back, a terrified yell bursting from his lips. He stumbled back a few paces, until his back was flush against the concrete of a building.

Others jumped as well, but some stepped forward, as if trying to figure out what happened.

"What the hell was that about?" someone asked, either awe or surprise evident in their voice.

"If these new fangled things are going to do -that- then I'd prefer regular oil lamps! Less likely of burnin' the entire town down."

Virgil looked around at the gathering crowd and then back up at the busted lamp. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but he figured he could ask others about it later. Right then, he needed to get down to the docks. He wasn't sure why he needed to get down there, but he wasn't sure about much that seemed to be going on.

He edged away from his perch against the building behind him, looking around at the people gathered and back at the lamp. As soon as he made it a safe distance away, Virgil took a random turn, and then began running to the docks.

Dizzy with fear and adrenaline, Virgil made it down to the docks in far better time than he had the night before, though his lungs burned and there was a severe stitch in his side. He was unsurprised to find dozens of people loitering around the outer edge of the dock area, as he knew that others must have heard that something had occurred.

However, he was surprised to find Richie as one of the people milling about.

Or, at least, the young blond was sitting on a crate, watching the going ons, further back from most of the crowd, but close enough to watch the police officers and clean up crew. For a moment, Virgil studied the cleaners, wondering who they worked for, as they didn't appear to be wearing the same suits that the police officers wore earlier in the morning, but they didn't have any company markings on them, either.

"Richie!" Virgil shouted as he jogged over to the blond, huffing and puffing as he did.

"Virgil," Richie called back, waving him over even though Virgil had almost fully arrived. Glancing at all the people around them, and using a common area voice, he asked benignly, "What brings you out to these parts this afternoon?"

Virgil grinned at his friend. "I heard there was some excitement down here last night."

"Last night," Richie said with a slow nod. "And this morning."

"Yeah?"

"Yep," Richie agreed. "One of the people running to the printing press was trying to tell my boss about monsters down here."

"Monsters?"

"Monsters."

"So…"

"So, naturally, everyone who's heard that rumor has come down to see if there are any around, even me. My boss has decided to close shop today, just in case the monsters decide to head towards his press." Richie said, looking over his spectacles to catch Virgil's eyes. "I take it that the rumors are why you're down here?"

"Of course," Virgil replied carefully, wondering about Richie's silent warning.

"Everyone is curious about the monsters." Richie continued, his eyes never leaving Virgil's. "But you know… they didn't start out as monsters."

"Do tell." Virgil said, his voice dipping.

"Reports say that all of the monsters mentioned are actually teenagers. People from your school, in fact." Richie said. "The reporter said that he watched some of them actually change."

"How?"

"Don't know, but I imagine it's why there were so many scrubbers and police out this morning," the blond shrugged as he finally broke eye contact to look around. "They needed to make sure this place and every place down wind was clean."

"Down wind?"

"I heard it was a gas."

"I… I see."

Richie nodded his head towards more people walking around, sweeping up the side of the dock. "I wonder if any of it's true."

"I guess I'll find out tomorrow, see who shows up for classes and who doesn't."

"Mmm." Richie nodded.

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine," Richie shrugged as he jumped down from the crate he had been sitting on. "As much trouble as my old man thinks I get into, I'm actually doing my best to stay OUT of it."

Virgil shared a sly smile with is friend before jerking his head towards the main thoroughfare. "Care to walk with me for a bit?"

"Of course!" Richie replied happily. "Nothing more to see here, anyway."

"Careful, Richie," Virgil teased. "You might just begin to sound like Miss Frieda, always searching for a story."

"Bite your tongue, my friend," the blond shot back. "I would like to think myself far more sane."

As they walked further and further away from the rest of society, and surrounded themselves with more quiet and more space, Virgil felt himself relax.

"So, have you really seen nothing untoward this day?" Richie suddenly asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I've seen no monsters, if that is what you are asking," Virgil replied, equally as quiet. "But, then, I do not recall all the events of last night."

"Oh?"

"I remember shots being fired, and a large explosion," Virgil said with a shrug. "But other than that, I have no recollection until this morning when I woke up."

"I see. Nothing else, though? Not even the slightest… something?"

"No, nothing."

"Well, then, I guess we truly will have to wait until tomorrow when you go to school."

"Although," Virgil said, leaning towards Richie. "I have seen a huge design flaw with the new, electric lights."

"A design flaw?!" Richie asked, his eyes widening in surprise. "Already?"

"Yes, sir," Virgil said with a large smile. "This afternoon, I caught up with Miss Frieda. After she told me what was found on the docks this morning, she ran off to the post office. And that's when one of the electric lamp lights exploded!"

"Exploded? Was anyone hurt?"

"Not that I could see, and I was right under the thing."

"Huh…" Richie said, crossing his arms across his chest as he tilted his head to the side. "Funny… in all the science fiction books we've read, I don't remember any of the lamps going out for random reasons. They usually all go out for mysterious ones, or as part of a sinister plot."

"Well…" Virgil said, trying to think about the experience as if he were in one of his stories. "Maybe that one light exploding was part of a larger plot, like a test run?"

"Could be," Richie replied mischievously, enjoying the idea of playing detective with Virgil. "I believe we shall have to keep our eye out for more exploding bulbs. If we find more of them, we could fit a pattern, rather than a… random coincidence."

"Still," Virgil said, nudging his friend with his elbow. "How often did the oil lamps explode?"

"Hmmm…" Richie murmured, as if he were truly thinking about it. "I see your point. That could be a serious design flaw."

"Exactly."

"I bet Miss Frieda would -love- to know about it."

"We should probably tell her about it before she gets her tour of Mr. Alva's… place." Virgil agreed as he look at another lamppost that they were fast approaching. Idly, not really thinking about it, Virgil reached out to touch the cool iron of the post. As soon as his fingers came in contact with the metal, the light bulb exploded.

"Holy-" Virgil asked, watching as his hand actually seemed to spark as he pulled it away from the cool surface.

"What the… How?!" Richie gasped, jumping several feet away from the post, his eyes fastened on the now useless top. "By all that's holy, I guess you are right in there being a design flaw."

"Yeah…" Virgil said distractedly, rubbing his thumbs across his fingers. '_What just happened there?_'


End file.
